


A Sorrow for Another Day

by Kitsu



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Dark, Dark!Reno is a Mood, Drinking, Fight Sex, Fighting Off Frustrations, Hand Jobs, Here We Go With The Weirdness Again, Loneliness, M/M, Shit Day, Sort Of, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 09:59:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21456187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsu/pseuds/Kitsu
Summary: Reno is looking to vent after a shit day, Vincent Valentine isunlucky enough to be the one who gets in his way.
Relationships: Reno & Vincent Valentine, Reno/Vincent Valentine
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	A Sorrow for Another Day

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go with the somewhat dark weirdness again. I write mostly troubling/dub fics, don't I? Oh well...
> 
> This is in every way inspired by listening all too much to Taemin's "Move" and "Want" over the last few days. Man, that shit is sexy. <s>Said the metal head.</s>

Love in the time of war was...hopeless. Useless. A waste. Nothing he ever considered, nor understood why people wasted their time chasing.  _ Lust _ in the times of war was another beast entirely. One he knew all too well - a beast that when it reared its ugly head chased away every shred of his rationality, left him raw, bared. Feral. 

Fighting was...exhilarating. Energizing. A deadly dance, reading the other while trying to surprise, to catch off guard. Easy when his partner was some drunk he’d pick fights with just to scratch an itch. So,  _ so _ much harder when the other had training, so much more rewarding.  _ Arousing. _

This one had training galore. The same training as he himself had, just with a longer range - making the dance even harder, trying to get between the man and the gun. He used his uncanny speed for all it was worth, but the other one was superhuman, a beast himself. A shot rang past his ears, too close, and yet he stopped to look up at the overcast sky - and laughed as the rain drops hit his face. He’d picked a hard one this time - and he was having so much fun.

He had long since realized he’d most likely die smiling, at the hands of an enemy. They didn’t live to retirement after all, him and his kind, none of them did. Well, technically, one had, nearly, by sleeping half his life away. And that one wasn’t as much retired as freelance. Freelance enough to accept the semi-drunken challenge he had been offered, instead of just walking away as he should have. They had once been the same, for whatever that was worth.

Reno laughed louder when a bullet brushed his cheek, with millimeter precision, blood starting to slowly trickle down and into his mouth - his wicked laughter turning into a prayer to some obscure god of war and death. “You’re not even trying,” he said to the air, the other one a blur of movement, here one second, there the next.

Words drifted to him, the voice low, controlled. “No. I’m not here to assist in your suicide. You stopped.” 

Tilting his head forward, a grim, wicked grin on his lips, Reno went from stationary to a sudden blur in a split second, pushing all his speed into his movements, catching the other one unaware, if only for a moment. Crashing into him full force, he staggered the other man, bringing him to his knees. Jamming his knee up under the other’s chin, he grabbed the dark, unruly hair and pulled the head back, keeping him locked in place between his knee and his hand. “Sorry, got lost in thought for a moment there, yo. Shouldn’ have kept you waiting. But.. Why did you come here, really?” His voice was dark, smooth, smoldering with something far from rage.

The answer came in the shape of a clawed hand digging its fingers into the back of the knee he was resting his weight on, collapsing him down to the other’s level in an instant.

“Do you really have to ask, Turk?” was hissed in his ear, red eyes level with his own now. 

\--

The evening had been winding its way to this point since the moment Reno had half-stumbled into a hole-in-the-wall bar, to quickly realized who the only other patron was. Vincent Valentine. Former Turk-come-immortal science experiment. Deadly, dangerous, dark, and just shy of beautiful. Reno couldn’t just retrace his steps, he’d been seen. It would’ve been...impolite. He’d sat down at the bar, and ordered the strongest stuff from the top shelf and drained a few glasses quickly. 

Valentine had been the first to speak, in a weird twist of character. “Hard day?” He’d sounded almost...companionable. 

“Yeah, no. Same same.” The answer was entirely non-committal, but he figured Valentine of all people knew the life of a Turk. “Shit boss, shit orders, shit day.” Non-specific, but specific enough.

“I see. I hope you have tomorrow off, the way you’re throwing those back.”

“Nah. I guess it’s just my form of self-flagellation over letting myself get stuck with this shit job. I coulda been a...a farmer, yes that’s it. A chocobo farmer. And I wouldn’t have to deal with this shit every day.” He was rambling, fully aware. But for some reason it felt...not right... okay maybe, to dump some of his worries on the former Turk.

Valentine had just nodded, chewing on the rim of his glass for a moment. Reno found himself watching, enthralled. It wasn’t often he had seen the other’s face unshrouded by darkness and that cape of his. “Fight me,” he found himself saying. “I need to vent.” 

Lifting a delicate eyebrow, Valentine had just stared at him. “You’re serious?” They were supposed to be...well, if not enemies directly, then at least antagonistic to a degree. 

“Yeah, c’mon. You can hold your own just fine. Just… I need to work this off.” Reno got to his feet, eyes a question, burning. He wasn’t really expecting Valentine to agree, but for some reason he had. They’d ended up on the roof of an old run-down high-rise, only the sky above. A sky filled with rain, dark and heavy. Like his mind.

\--

And there they were, kneeling on the ground, Reno’s hand still tangled in Vincent’s hair. Pain spread from the knee that had impacted the ground, his cheek burning, bloodied. And the beast in him roared. 

The distance between them gone, he crushed his lips to Vincent’s - the hands grabbing on to his hips, pulling him close the only encouragement he needed. Diving into it, he lost track of time. Of space. Of anything but lips against his own and hands sliding up under his untucked shirt. Well,  _ hand _ and something colder, metal, sharp, jagged, drawing lines into his skin. Getting drunk on the strange mood, he found himself burying his face against the other’s neck, drawing his breath deeply. There was a pulse there, a heat he had not expected. A rhythmic beating beneath the skin, pulling him into the dance again. There was only one outcome left for them. 

Letting go of Vincent hair, his hands trailed down warm leather, down. Unbuckling, touching. Finding skin, finding the beat beneath the skin again, nestled in his palm. Stroking, timing his own hand to the rhythm, feeling it speed up - feeling it echo in himself. 

Vincent’s good hand trailed down as well, stroking Reno through his trousers for a moment, before doing away with the fabric, finding skin. The claw found its way to the back of Reno’s head, tangling in red hair, points scratching.

Leaning into each other, they touched and breathed, in silence, under the city’s dark lights. Two beasts, neither in dominance, held in check by another. Breath quickening between clenched teeth, muttered profanities, tensing muscles. Reno’s head burying closer to Vincent’s neck, teeth bared against pale, warm skin. Vincent’s claw drawing blood where the points dug tensely into Reno’s scalp. Hands and cocks twitching under a few strained last strokes, until Vincent tilted his head back, breath a long sigh between clenched teeth, and Reno bit down hard to stifle his own.

Stilled, still slumped against the other Reno felt the cold rain falling on his neck, collecting, running down under the collar of his shirt. Holy water falling from the sky to wash him clean, as he knelt at the altar of his inner beast. Sitting listlessly back on his haunches, he stared up at Vincent, mind a turmoil. Mouth dry. 

And then Vincent smiled. Just a slight upturn of the corners of his mouth, but a smile. Lifted his hand and _ licked it clean _ . Rose to his feet, and offered Reno a hand, pulling him up from the ground, until they were almost face to face again. More like face to chin, Reno losing out height-wise.

Not a single sentence managed to form in his mind. Not until Vincent, sure that Reno was standing on his own legs, turned on his heel and walked away. Stepping off the edge of the roof, all Reno saw was red flash, followed by an echoing “Next time, just ask.”

A smile formed on Reno’s lips. Oh, the imagined possibilities that comment promised were going to become a problem - but that was a sorrow for another day. Always for another day. The beast in the back of his mind purred.


End file.
